


An Alternate Timeline

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [39]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Comfort of friends, Grief/Mourning, Happy dreams but painful wakening, Hurt/Comfort, More Torchwood drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-12-01 19:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto is calmer, and his friends take gentle care of him.  The beauty of the dreams of his lost child torment him, but are they really just dreams?





	An Alternate Timeline

Ianto slept for a few hours, and when he woke, it was almost tea time. He sat up unsteadily, groggy from sleep and dizzy from the lack of food. He felt unsteady and off-kilter, but Jack’s words had pulled him out of the suicidal miasma of shame and guilt, at least for the moment. Hermione hugged him and handed him a bottle of water, then sat with him to be sure he drank it all.

She bumped his shoulder as he rubbed his face, trying to wake up. “I’m not sorry, you know.” As Ianto slept, the others told her what Ianto had said, about finding a way to end his life. She knew he was stubborn and resourceful, but his friends were just as determined that he make it through this.

He shrugged. “I don’t have it in me to be sorry, either.” He looked at her, then quickly away. “Still friends?”

“Always,” she promised. “Ianto, I won’t lie to you, this was a terrible mess. But it was not entirely of your making, and I hope that someday you’ll be able to forgive yourself for that parts that were.”

“That all sounds really complicated,” he frowned. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t seem to hold two thoughts together.”

Draco had arrived while Ianto slept. He came over and sat on Ianto’s other side. “You’re finally letting yourself unwind from the stress and tension you’ve been carrying since… that day.” He had felt Ianto tense in anticipation of mention of the battle, and chose to hedge. “You could be a poster child for malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion, and PTSD.” Draco wrapped his arm around Ianto. “You’re a mess, Nif, and no mistake. But we’ll get you sorted, if you let us help you.”

Ianto sighed. “I’ll try,” he said quietly. “I just…” he shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Hermione asked, curious.

“Anything,” Ianto muttered. “Nothing makes sense, anymore.” He turned wide eyes to her. “Did it ever?”

She took his hand and lay her head on his shoulder. “Maybe. And I think it will, again. But you’ve got to let us help you get you healthy, again. Will you give that a chance, before you decide to try… anything else?”

Ianto sniffed, then gave a nod. “I’ll try.”

Jack arrived back at the hub from a Weevil callout just as there was a knock at the door of Ianto’s flat. He stood behind Tosh and watched as a ginger couple in their mid-fifties entered the flat, carrying several large picnic baskets.

“Mum!” called out George and Ron.

Ginny smiled at the man. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, kids,” Molly sang out.

“Hello, Ms. Molly,” Luna and Neville called back. The couple handed off the picnic baskets to George, Ron, and Ginny, then took off their cloaks.

Cloaks? Jack smirked. Weird, but okay. Any friends of Ianto’s, and all that… But there was something vaguely familiar about the couple. He just couldn’t place them.

“Ianto,” Molly strode across the living room as he stood unsteadily from the sofa.

“Ma’am,” he muttered, looking at his feet.

“Oh, none of that, now. Come here, Love,” she bustled forward and pulled him into her arms, which was enough to have him clinging to her, his face buried in her shoulder. “Lisa was a rare gem, and I know you’ll miss her,” Molly cried. “And to lose a child… there is no pain quite like it.”

As he pulled her tighter, she soothed him in a quiet voice. “I promise you, we’ll get through this, my dear. I swear it. You may not believe it possible, and you may not even want to, right now, but I promise you, you can survive this.”

When she finally released her hold on Ianto, he stepped back, still strangely dry-eyed. His eyes were on his feet again as Molly moved to the side and Arthur stepped closer. He raised his arm to pull Ianto into a hug, but Ianto flinched away as though sensing a blow coming from that direction.

The entire room went still.

“Bloody hell, the Tea Boy’s giving up all his secrets today, isn’t he?” Owen swore.

Arthur and Molly exchanged a pained look, having finally received confirmation of what they had long suspected. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her tears. Draco and Luna also exchanged a look very much like the one the Weasleys had shared. Harry was looking at his own shoes, remembering well the terrorizing bluster of Uncle Vernon. The Weasley children looked more confused than anything. Neville just looked sad.

“Shit,” Ianto said, looking at Arthur with shame and regret. “I’m so sorry. I know you’d never…”

“It’s all right, Son,” Arthur said, moving more slowly this time and making sure Ianto saw every move he planned to make. He pulled the young wizard into a warm embrace. “You’ve had a hell of a time, Son. It’s understandable that you’d be a little jumpy.”

Arthur’s words defused the situation, and Ianto allowed the older man to comfort him. “I’m so sorry, Ianto. I know we only met her the once, but we thought Lisa was lovely.” He rocked Ianto back and forth, feeling the younger man tremble from weakness. “And I’m sorry for the little one, as well.”

Ianto sniffed and backed away, swaying on his feet. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get you sat back down, Nif,” Draco broke in, taking Ianto by the elbow. He looked respectfully to Arthur, hoping the older man did not perceive his interference as a slight. “Sir.”

Arthur nodded kindly at Draco. Living proof that the old adage about leopards and spots was mistaken. “Thank you, Draco. He seems a little unsteady.”

“He’s only managed to eat a slice of toast today,” Luna told Molly. “Half this morning and half at lunch, and both times he cast it back up.”

“Not to worry, Dear. I have just the thing,” Molly bustled to the kitchen and stood staring at the stove with her hands on her hips, for a moment before calling Hermione in to help. 

“It’s very much like yours, Mum,” Hermione laughed before explaining the workings of the stove. Molly paid close attention, having been told that they were being watched by Torchwood and knowing that she would be feeding their Niffler until he was back on his feet.

“He’s so thin,” she fretted. “I felt every rib when he hugged me.”

“I know. He put so much energy into caring for Lisa, he neglected his own health,” Hermione sighed. “He says he tried to eat, but he just couldn’t. I think the terrorist attack,” her back was to the camera, so she rolled her eyes, “was very traumatic for him, even without Lisa’s injuries.”

“Poor lamb,” Molly sighed and brushed away a tear.

“And what about…” Hermione began, but Molly cut her off.

“No, we are not going to speculate. As you said, he’s been traumatized, and now that he is no longer waiting for the other shoe, so to speak, he’s going to be jumpy and at loose ends.”

“Good woman,” Owen muttered, and Toshiko nodded.

Molly fixed a thick, hearty broth for Ianto. His hands were so shaky that Luna fed it to him, perched on the arm of the sofa next to him and talking to him about this and that. To everyone’s relief, he finished the meal and drank another bottle of water.

“Ianto Jones, your feet are filthy,” Molly declared, catching sight of them as he shifted position when he was done eating.

“He was barefoot on the roof, earlier,” Hermione said helpfully.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Luna smiled. She took the soup bowl into the kitchen and rummaged through a couple of boxes until she found a low tub that would suit her purpose. She began filling it with warm water and carried it into the living room.

“Pedicures!” Ginny exclaimed, clapping.

“Really?” Ianto mostly looked tired, but he couldn’t quite muster the wherewithal to be grumpy about his friends taking care of him.

“It’ll be just like Halloween in the Room of Re…” Luna bit off the rest of the sentence. “When we cheered ourselves up.”

“As I recall, you were rather an expert at shoulder rubs, Neville,” Ginny teased.

Neville cracked his knuckles and grinned. “At your service, milady!” he exclaimed.

Luna ran into the bathroom for some shower gel, a few towels, and Ianto’s manicure set, only to realize that half of the implements had been confiscated by Owen. She returned to the living room and luckily, Hermione had the implements she would need in her bag.

“You really don’t have to wash my feet,” Ianto protested, embarrassed.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be like old times,” Ginny grinned. “I even have,” she cackled as she pulled out a bottle of purple nail polish so dark it looked almost black.

Ianto groaned, but there was the barest hint of a smile at the attention as Luna put a bit of shower gel into the tub and mixed it about until it was bubbly. Then she took Ianto’s feet and put them in the tub, one by one. He hissed at the heat, but then seemed to melt back into the sofa.

“Not so fast,” Neville kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the sofa, and putting a foot on either side of Ianto’s hips, he sat on the back and leaned Ianto forward, putting another cushion behind his back. He began kneading his friend’s shoulders. “Blimey, Nif. You’re like a coiled spring.”

“Mmmf,” Ianto’s chin hit his chest as he enjoyed Luna and Ginny rubbing his feet, ankles and calves, and Neville rubbing his back, shoulders, and neck. By the time his nails were clipped, cuticles nipped, and nails painted, he had finished his water and his head was leaned back on the cushion, and Neville was just carding his fingers through his hair.

Ginny managed to maneuver herself and Luna in such a way that she was able to cast a spell (her wand was up her sleeve) to dry the nail polish, knowing that they needed to get Ianto to bed, very soon.

The others had been having quiet conversations about innocuous topics. The general atmosphere in the room was one of comfortable camaraderie. Jack was once more struck, particularly watching the attentions Ianto was receiving. There was an intimacy among them that he knew could not have been cultivated under normal circumstances, even at the most open of boarding schools.

Luna had washed and put away the tub, and they had all settled into a comfortable reverie, none willing to leave Ianto, when there was a knock at the door. They all looked at one another, confused. Ianto made to get up to answer the door, but Draco clapped a hand on his shoulder and handed him another bottle, this one marked with a ‘D’.

Arthur stood and went to the door, opening it to four more guests. “Ah,” he smiled sadly. “Glad you could make it.”

“Ianto, cherie,” Fleur squeezed past her father-in-law and ran to where Ianto had stood when he saw more friends at the door. She pulled him into her arms, and he made a small sound of protest, reminding Draco that while they had been so focused on trying to calm Ianto in his grief, they had done nothing to manage his physical pain.

“Excuse me,” Draco took Ianto’s water bottle and left the flat, apparating to his lab. He mixed a strong pain relieving potion into the bottle and headed back.

As he re-entered the flat, he saw that Bill had just released Ianto from a hug, and Percy had stepped up to him, giving his condolences along with a hug of his own. Charlie was last.

“Just how big is that bloody family?” Owen groused, glad to see that Ianto had a large number of friends supporting him. “And who is _she_?” The ethereal French beauty was a sight to behold.

“And what happened to _him_?” Toshiko asked, nodding towards Bill, whose scarred face was turned towards the camera as he kissed his mother hello.

“Look at the other one’s hands,” Gwen said, pointing. Charlie’s hands and forearms were covered in old burn scars.

“I’m heading out tonight, but I wanted to stop by and see you,” Charlie said, holding Ianto away from him. “I’m so sorry, Nif.”

“Find another nest?” Ianto asked, too tired to deflect the conversation more naturally.

Charlie grinned. “Yep. Too delicate to move. I’ll be back in a few days – need a few supplies, for after they hatch.” He tilted his head to one side. “You should come see.”

Ianto hung his head. “Not sure I should leave the flat, actually.”

“Shit,” Jack swore.

“You’re on bereavement leave, Ianto,” Luna reminded him. “Nothing saying you can’t come and go as you please.”

Gwen looked at Jack. “Should he really be gallivanting across the countryside, Jack?”

Jack shrugged. “As far as they’re concerned, he’s on bereavement leave, not house arrest. His time is his own.” He pulled out his phone and sent Ianto a text to that effect.

“Well, I’ll stop back by when I get back. You’re welcome to come along. I know how you love...” Charlie broke off with a smile. He reached over and hugged his mother, then shook hands with his father. “I’ll see you all in a few days,” he smiled. Then he turned to Ianto. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, but you look like you could use some rest. Take care of yourself, Nif.” He hugged Ianto again, and left.

“Does it strike anyone else as strange, all these English people in Cardiff?” Gwen asked.

“I beg your pardon!” Tosh’s temper blazed.

“I didn’t mean you, pet. I mean,” she gestured at the screen. “Not a single Welsh vowel to be heard.”

“Well his school wasn’t in Wales, so it stands to reason,” Tosh gritted.

“But they’re all here? Now?”

“Why wouldn’t they be? Wouldn’t you be there for one of your mates?” Owen asked, also annoyed.

“Gwen, I told you to leave it,” Jack said, as calmly as he could. He looked at all three. “Actually, it looks like we’re in for a quiet night. Why don’t you three call it a day?”

***

Ianto slept most of the next day. His friends only roused him to be sure he ate and drank, but otherwise they let him sleep. There were a few nightmares during the hours between his daily allotments of dreamless sleep potion, but they were not as horrific as he had become accustomed to, and he was able to calm himself and return to sleep quickly.

It was mid-morning the following day when the potion wore off again. Jack had been doing paperwork with one eye and ear on the camera in Ianto’s bedroom, marveling at how soundly (and long) the younger man had been sleeping. He was surprised to hear Ianto laugh. He realized he had never heard such a pure and artless sound of good humor from Ianto. Jack also realized that Ianto seldom laughed, and when he did it seemed forced.

“Come here, my Darling, you mam will be cross if our tea is cold when we return.” 

Jack’s stood and grabbed his coat, heart hammering against his chest as Ianto chuckled.

“Jack!” Owen called out. “When he wakes up it’s not going to be good!”

“Yeah,” Jack strode quickly from his office. “Let’s go, then.”

They once more made the mad drive to Ianto’s flat, listening as his beautiful dream continued, knowing that his world would shatter again when he woke.

“Yes, you can have sprinkles on your pancakes, Sweetling. Come along. Oof, you’re getting big!” Another chuckle. “What was that for?” A pause. “I love you too, sweet Ellie-pop.”

Ianto chuckled again, and then he woke. The child in his arms turned to ether and what was left of his heart crumbled to dust. “No,” the broken whisper could barely be heard. Then a sob.

Luna had sensed his distress and was in his room when he began screaming and clawing at his chest. He was so weak that she was able to keep him from harming himself, but it took the combined efforts of Harry and Neville to keep him from bolting from the bed. They feared he’d make a break for the roof.

Jack and Owen ran into the flat and were met by his anguished screams. Owen had been working on a new alien concoction that would calm him, but the side effect was a near-coma level of deep sleep. While it would be helpful with the exhaustion, it would also mean the tea boy would miss quite a few meals.

“Make way,” Owen said, not unkindly.

Luna was on the bed beside Ianto, holding him by the wrists. Neville was squeezed between her and the headboard, holding him down by the shoulders. Harry moved further down the bed, moving his hold from Ianto’s knees to his ankles. 

Owen turned Ianto slightly, yanked down his boxers to expose his flank, and gave him the jab. He returned the younger man’s boxers to their proper place and pulled him onto his back, again. “You’re going to sleep for a while now, Ianto. Don’t freak out when you wake and find an IV, okay?”

Ianto’s eyes moved around the room, which was still darkened. The only light came through the door from the hallway. His gaze landed on Jack as it grew more glassy. “Captain, please help me,” he choked, pleading.

Jack reached out and took the hand that was reaching for him. “Ianto?” he asked. “What can I do?”

“Please. You always do what’s right, Sir,” Ianto looked desperate. “No matter what. Please, Sir. _Please_ help me.”

Jack felt a familiar stinging behind his nose as he realized the sort of help Ianto was begging for. He sat on the edge of the bed as Owen stepped out of the way. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I am here to help you. Just not the way you think you need. I know it seems like too much, but just…” he sighed. “Just try to ride it out. Let us help you get healthy before you make any big decisions, okay?”

Ianto closed his eyes and sighed, and Jack knew that the younger man felt Jack had let him down. But he could not regret it. 

“Luna, the dreams. They’re so real. What does it mean?” Ianto’s voice was beginning to slur.

Luna looked at Jack, whose gaze had not wavered from Ianto’s face. She could see that she was safe to answer, as magic was not directly involved. “It means that your mind has somehow tapped into an alternate timeline. One where she lived.”

“So it’s real?” The hope in his voice actually worried Owen. There was a very real danger of Ianto seeking out that dream world permanently.

“It is. The veil is thin right now. Treasure what you see, because each glimpse could be the last before the barriers reset.”

“There’s a timeline where she got to live,” Ianto was fading. “Just not this one.” He nodded, as though it made perfect sense. “I didn’t deserve her, is all.”

“Ianto, you know that’s not how it works,” Luna chided. “You deserve every good and wonderful thing. What happened is terrible, but it wasn’t some sort of punishment.”

Jack remembered a conversation he and Ianto’d had, late one night over a glass of Scotch. It was one of those conversations that forms friendships, and it had convinced Jack to give Ianto time to heal from Canary Wharf before trying to get the younger man into his bed.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing Ianto’s hand.

Ianto struggled to open his eyes. “Sir?”

“You don’t really believe that this was about worth. I know you don’t. Because you told me what you believe, when Suzie died.”

Ianto blinked slowly at Jack. He was almost out, but Jack was convinced he was too polite to let himself be pulled into unconsciousness while Jack was still speaking. “I’s trying to make you feel better,” he groused defiantly.

Jack chuckled. “Doesn’t mean you were wrong. Shit happens. And it’s our job to take care of one another, when it does. Seems like a good philosophy, to me. Maybe think about sticking with it, a while longer?”

Ianto closed his eyes, succumbing to the effects of the meds Owen had given him. Luna was pleased to note the very small smile ghosting across his lips as he drifted off.

***


End file.
